


Lavender

by lemonoclefox



Series: Sway [7]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, Witches, modern witches, some soft stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 05:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: An evening of inventory and some vulnerability.





	Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Another oneshot! I do love this verse, and sharing little bits and pieces of it makes me happy. This one takes place after _Sway_ , but before _Holly_ , and is mostly exposition and some stuff to expand on this world a little bit. And also these guys just generally being smitten.
> 
> #SwayFic

"Can I ask you something?"

Magnus's question comes after a minute or so of comfortable silence, as he pauses in the middle of opening a box.

"Is it about how your sanity must be in question for you to not only help me with inventory, but freely offer to?"

Alec says it lightly, not even looking up from his notes. The shop is closed for the day, and he and Magnus are currently in the home stretch of going over every single item in stock. It's tedious work, and Alec only mentioned it in passing when reluctantly canceling plans―which led to Magnus offering a hand. It didn't seem to matter how much Alec objected, pointing out that it's his responsibility and that Magnus wouldn't even get paid for it.

"If I came to you every time I needed help―" Alec said, with Magnus smoothly cutting him off.

"We'd spend more time together," he finished, making a false-suffering noise. "Torture."

So here they are, the sun having set hours ago, outside. They're halfway through November now, and cold darkness is something you just need to get used to. But here, inside, the lights are soft and the air smells of lavender.

Magnus chuckles, slowly continuing to open the box he just took down from the top shelf above. Took, rather than lifted; a soft, magickal nudge and it tumbled right off, allowing him to catch it in his arms. No ladder required.

"No," he says, gingerly starting to examine the box's contents. It's full of pressed paper, in different shades, made from different materials, for different uses, each stack secured in plastic protection.

Magnus pauses again, Alec can sense it. He looks up from where sits on the floor, tearing his attention away from the lists of things they've already gone through.

"Magnus," he says softly, drawing his boyfriend's gaze. "What is it?"

Magnus presses his lips together, picks at the cardboard edges of the box's flaps, eyes darting away.

"I've just noticed," he says diplomatically, "that what you carry here in the shop is rather neutral." He turns to Alec. "Something for everyone, I mean. Which I appreciate." Alec quirks a small smile, and Magnus continues. "But I've also noticed that you do have some tools and spells and books specific to some languages of magick. That is, for three of them."

He looks back down at the box, not looking at anything in particular. Alec's eyes go to the shelf in front of Magnus, across the aisle from where the paper would go. Alec has a rather comprehensive collection of books, from basic to advanced―spells and recipes, as well as general history and various rites, whatever one might need.

Alec knows the contents of the books Magnus keeps glancing at, and knows what Magnus is getting at now.

"Why not the fourth?" the question is asked carefully, and Alec turns back to Magnus, whose eyes are now on him. Magnus is standing next to the nearest bookshelf, his box balanced on a stool brought out for that particular purpose, and Alec slowly gets up from the floor to stand beside him. He takes a breath, exhales.

"Well," he says. "It's not... because of bias, or anything. I just don't get a lot of customers who prefer the fourth." He shrugs, a little awkwardly, apologetically. "Those books and tools don't really sell. And many who do buy them clearly only do it out of curiosity, no doubt getting into all kinds of shit 'cause they use spells they don't understand. Not to mention, people in general don't like it, think it's bad luck or something." His tone turns a little conspiring, eyebrows raised, in an attempt to lighten his next words. "I don't know if you know this, but it's often considered _dark_ magick."

As though there is such a thing, he wants to add. He doesn't have to. Magnus knows just as well as he does that magick itself is neutral, neither good nor bad, neither dark nor light. It just exists, no matter how it's manifested. It's _how_ it's used that matters, for what ends. It's how it's used that makes it dark.

Magnus, sure enough, breathes a little laugh.

"Really?" he deadpans. "I had no idea."

The term _language_ here simply refers to symbols used, rather than any writing or spoken words, as well as whatever materials and tools that may be preferred by some witches but not others. These languages make up the cornerstones of any take on magick, and each carries its own weight in its particular culture and tradition, often tied in closely with those witches' particular views on magick itself.

At the moment, Magnus's fingers graze the spine of a book dedicated to Alec's own language of magick, lined with the same symbols that decorate various objects within the shop, some symbols jagged and others smooth, some plain and others intricate. Solid black, ones used by Alec's family and coven for generations, traditionally focused on efficiency more than anything. Symbols like the one tattooed below his elbow.

Near the first book is another, one full of swirls and patterns too complex in design to tell apart unless you've studied them long and hard enough. Alec knows those who use them favor earth magick―such imagery is even included in many of the symbols themselves. Even the magick itself is said to be more innate to the witches born into this particular way of practicing the craft, as they lean more heavily into the spiritual side of it.

A third book contains an eclectic mix of symbols from all over the world, from several different cultures and religions. Alec has found that most witches favor this particular language of magick. Witches that don't belong to one particular group, regular people often discovering the craft on their own when they're older, rather than being born into it. Witches with no established culture, finding each other and together reaching for the comfort and familiarity of symbols they already know or at least recognize. Alec knows at least a handful of such witches, though they tend to keep to themselves, often looked down upon by others. Clary's friend Simon is one, for instance, as well as Bat, a young witch who only started coming in here six months ago, after being introduced to the craft through a friend.

The fourth language of magick is not represented on this shelf, as Magnus has pointed out. The one characterized by spoke-centered symbols and jagged edges, created for the main purpose of doing harm, for self-serving goals and negative direction.

The symbols themselves aren't bad, Alec knows this. Intellectually. They channel and manifest magick exactly the same as any other kind, even when used with blood or poison or remnants of death. But it's hard to separate them from the people who use them almost exclusively for bad, sometimes horrible things.

Like Magnus's family. Like his coven. Like Magnus used to be.

"I suppose it makes sense," Magnus says with a soft exhale, dropping his hand from the shelf. He looks a little forlorn for a moment, but understanding. "I can't imagine most who use that particular language would visit a place like this very often, anyway."

Alec smiles softly, a little sadly.

"No," he agrees. "They don't."

Magnus takes another moment, before turning back to Alec. He smiles.

"Maybe it's for the best," he says, a little lighter. "Perhaps I should look into a different language, too. Get some distance from the awful one that I'm used to."

Alec frowns.

"Hey," he says, shaping his hand to the curve of Magnus's jaw. It's tense; Magnus isn't as cavalier about this as he's trying to be. "It's a part of you. And I get where you're coming from, but―" Alec shakes his head. "I've seen what you can do, Magnus. And there's nothing awful about it. Nothing dark, or bad. It's beautiful. Like you."

Magnus inhales deeply, looks to be on the verge of disagreeing. But he seems to decide against it, and instead smiles softly.

"I must admit," he says, gently wrapping his fingers around Alec's wrist, smoothing his thumb over the back of his hand. "I've never met anyone quite as well-spoken as you, Alexander."

Alec scoffs, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"I'd say I'm pretty plain in how I say things," he says.

"Exactly."

Not sure what he means by that, Alec frowns a little, but it only draws an amused chuckle from Magnus, who leans in and kisses him. A spark, pure energy, flooding across Alec's skin. Magick. Just like every other time their lips meet.

"Now," Magnus says, clearly shaking off the heaviness of the moment, taking a step back and gently patting Alec's chest. "Back to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can have dinner, and I've been craving Greek all day."

Alec laughs, nods as Magnus turns back to his own task.

"Fair enough," Alec says. He plants a kiss on Magnus's cheek. "But I'm buying."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [the twitters](http://twitter.com/lemonoclefox)! #SwayFic


End file.
